When Your Life's a Mess
by meekshallinherit
Summary: Sometimes, you really need someone to turn to. On a cold day in Skid Row, Seymour finds that Audrey's there when he needs help.


The chime of the door opening was always a welcome sound. Some of the time, it meant that they finally had a customer. Even more often, it meant that Audrey was there, which was even better. That day, Seymour didn't notice the sound of someone coming in, even if it involved a lot more noise than usual. The door started to open, but ground to a halt before it could get far enough to set off the bell. There was another hard push, then the sound of someone throwing their shoulder against it, and finally one more push before the ice-caked hinges would crackle open enough to allow a person to slip through.

Mr. Mushnik only briefly looked up and grunted out a greeting. He didn't bother offering any sort of explanation for the arctic-like conditions of the shop, and seemed to have accepted the fact that it was just how they were living now.

"Mista' Mushnik, I really don't wanna complain, but do you think maybe you should turn the radiators up a little?" Audrey tried suggesting.

"Wouldn't do any good. Whole heat system's stopped working." He informed her in a resigned tone. "I'd suggest you leave your coat on."

She knew it would be pointless to ask why he didn't get someone to fix it. He'd just say that repairs were expensive and they didn't have the money for it. She decided to try and focus on what she might be able to do something about, and turned her attention to her co-worker.

Seymour still hadn't noticed that anything was going on. He felt like his ears had been plugged, though it wasn't much surprise when his entire head felt stuffed up. He was doing his best to remedy the situation, and Audrey found him slouched over a bowl of hot water on the counter with a towel draped over his head.

She gently tapped him on the shoulder, and even after looking up, it took him a few seconds to realize who it was through fogged-up glasses.

"Hi Seymour."

He didn't say anything, but made his best attempt at a smile. He hoped it didn't look as tired as he felt.

"Are you feeling any betta'?"

He glanced down, and wondered if it would honestly be insulting to her intelligence to claim he was in any condition resembling health. He and winter had never seemed to get along well, and he was fairly certain he was past the point of 'common cold' and fully into 'flu that makes you feel like death'. He'd officially given up on believing he had any dignity left after Audrey found him asleep on the bathroom floor one morning. At the moment, he was a little surprised she was even standing near him. He was pretty sure his boss had been doing his best to keep the entire length of the shop between the two of them.

Unsure how else to answer her question, he resorted to an indecisive shrug.

The fact that he had yet to speak hadn't gone unnoticed, and Audrey's face softened with sympathy. "Still can't talk much?"

He looked back up at her and apologetically shook his head.

She really wished she could do more for him. Though she had at least come up with one idea before she'd made her way to work that day. "Here, I brought something for you."

Seymour watched as she reached for the heavier-than-normal weight of her purse and carefully pulled out something packaged in a large paper cup with a plastic lid. He couldn't smell a thing when she placed it in front of him, but once he looked under the lid he found that it seemed to be a to-go order of soup.

"You're an _angel, _Audrey."

He wished he could say it without croaking like a dying frog, but at least she looked like she appreciated it anyway.

* * *

The day wore on without any business, which was unfortunately the usual. Audrey thought it might have felt like time had stopped completely, if not for the steadily growing mountain range of Kleenex surrounding her friend every time she looked over. He was too tired and sore to get up, and he'd started off trying to toss them towards the trashcan, before Mr. Mushnik had grumbled at him about, "Whatever you've got, I don't want it. Keep your germs over there, would you?"

Audrey had found that Mr. Mushnik seemed to refuse to give out sick days merely on the principle of the thing, but he at least seemed to accept that he wasn't likely to get any actual work out of Seymour. And with nothing else to do with her time, Audrey found it impossible to stop worrying about him. He'd spent most of the day looking like he was trying not to nod off, at least when he wasn't nearly hacking up a lung.

The moment Mr. Mushnik was out of the room to work on something in his office, she walked over to talk to her co-worker. As cold as the rest of him seemed to be, his pale face was flushed red with heat, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused in a way that was bordering on delirious.

"Seymour? Do you maybe wanna go lie down?" She gently suggested.

She might have to talk to her boss into it a little, but she doubted she would get much more than his usual habitual griping. Surely even he could see that Seymour wasn't up for being at work. The poor thing looked like he could barely lift his head. But even if Seymour seemed tempted for a moment, he then pulled his windbreaker tighter around himself and shook his head.

"S'freezing down there." He explained in a raspy whisper.

She hadn't quite thought of that. It already seemed pretty freezing up there, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know how cold it had to be in his room. She hated the thought of him having to spend the night that way.

As she was thinking, Seymour ducked into his arm and let out a few muffled sneezes, and even that movement seemed enough to leave his head spinning. He looked back up at Audrey, a sort of tired desperation settling over his features in spite of his best efforts. "Is winter almost over yet?"

Audrey glanced over at the calendar, and nervously fidgeted with her hands. "Well, uh…"

Mr. Mushnik had just stepped back into the room, and bluntly stated, "It's December third."

Audrey turned to give him a pointed look, but was distracted when Seymour's head hit the counter with a pathetic whimper. She reached out and tried to offer a supportive pat on the shoulder.

"Just hang in there, okay?"

He didn't answer, and she looked up at her boss again.

"Mista' Mushnik, I really think you should call someone about the heat. This can't possibly be good for him."

He only shrugged as he settled into his chair, which had been moved from its usual spot to somewhere farther away. "He can tough it out like the rest of us. You don't hear me complaining, do you?"

Audrey decided it was best not to point out that she most definitely had heard him complain _many_ times that day, and merely insisted, "I mean it, I'm worried about him."

"Would you relax? I'm sure he'll be fine."

"He got sick into a flowa' pot yesterday."

"And I already took it out of his paycheck. What's your point?"

Audrey had to pause and take a deep breath before responding. This was starting to seem like the most unethical thing she'd ever seen. And she'd seen some unethical things in her life.

"At least we get to go home at the end of the day." She pointed out. "Seymour has to live here. For goodness sake, he's not a penguin."

"It's not _that_ cold." Mr. Mushnik protested.

Audrey didn't say a word, and merely picked up the watering can, tipped it upside-down, and let the solid chunk of ice inside slide out. Without looking up, Seymour blindly reached towards the spot it had landed on the counter with a heavy _clunk_. After a moment of fumbling, he managed to grab the piece of ice, and he pulled it back to press it to his forehead. Audrey was half convinced she heard steam rising.

Arguments didn't seem to be getting anywhere, and she resorted to a pleading look. Mr. Mushnik might not be the kind of person who was easily swayed by that sort of thing, but it was enough to make his resolve soften just a little.

"Alright, alright. I promise, next time someone buys an arrangement, I'll call someone to fix the heat. Now would you stop hovering over him and find something productive to do?"

Audrey hated to leave Seymour alone, but honestly, she wasn't quite sure if he was awake anymore anyway. And besides, she figured that she suddenly did have a reason to get back to her job.

She soon disappeared back into her work area, and the shop was silent except for the occasional rustling of a newspaper and the faint whistle of Seymour's breathing as he continued lying slumped against the counter. In hindsight, Mr. Mushnik figured he probably should have wondered what she was working on when no one had placed an order in a long while.

It was only a few minutes until closing time when Audrey came back out. She paused with a fond smile to place one of her get-well-soon arrangements next to Seymour, setting it down carefully so she wouldn't interrupt his sleep. After that, she continued to the cash register, placed a few bills inside the drawer, and then turned to look expectantly at her boss.

He didn't bother to argue, even if there was some heavy eye rolling on his way to the phone. One rather begrudging call later, he hung up again, and found Audrey still watching.

"They said it's outside their regular business hours, and I'm not paying more for that. They'll be here in the morning." He explained in a tired voice that left no room for argument.

Audrey figured it was better than nothing, even if she was still worried about the night ahead. As her boss was preparing to lock up, she noticed that she was pretty sure the leaky pipes were starting to form icicles.

Though he was clearly more concerned with the shop than anything else, it seemed to occur to Mr. Mushnik that he had at least some responsibility to make sure his charge hadn't died on the counter. He was still far less than willing to get anywhere close, though it didn't stop him from using the shop's broom to poke at his employee's shoulder from a safe distance.

"Krelborn? You still alive over there?"

Seymour gave a feeble groan as he winced away from the assault on his aching muscles, and lifted a hand off the counter long enough to make a 'so-so' gesture.

Mr. Mushnik gave a satisfied nod, though Audrey was decidedly less reassured with that answer. She soon found herself alone with Seymour in the shop, and reached out to give him a much gentler nudge.

"Seymour?"

He made a small noise, and just barely managed to crack an eye open. She couldn't help but notice how he was shivering like a leaf.

"I really think we'd betta' get you somewhere warm. Do you wanna come with me?"

His mind seemed to be working sluggishly, but finally, he gave a faint nod. It made her even more concerned that he didn't try to object. Seymour always seemed like he didn't want to bother her, and she expected to have to convince him that it wasn't any trouble and she was happy to help. He might have been too exhausted to care, but from the hazy look in his eyes, she really wasn't sure how well he could follow what was going on.

After he reached an arm towards her in a silent plea for help, Audrey rushed over to help him to his feet, where he swayed so unsteadily she practically had to hold him up. She felt awful having to take him across the street and out into the harsh winter, but it would be worth it to know he was somewhere that wasn't as cold as his basement. She could always do without her bed for the night, and he seemed like he desperately needed a warm place to sleep.

With any luck, it might be enough to help him finally turn a corner. It was hard to see him this way, especially when she felt like there was so little she could do.

Seymour's head was swimming, and like Audrey predicted, he was having a hard time making sense of anything through the fog settled over his mind. But he did know that he was soon set down somewhere soft and warm. A hand brushed against his forehead as he heard the murmur of a few concerned words, and he also knew that she was there. No matter what else happened, that meant everything to him.


End file.
